Monster
by Mrs. Killian Jones pureblood
Summary: Meet Killian Jones: A man with a back story and a curse; he's a monster. Literally. And he's running out of time to save himself. Meet Emma Swan: A girl with an attitude (and a back story). She has everything it takes to take a monster, believing she's dated a few herself. Meet the author: A girl who's really bad at summaries. My take on Beauty and the Beast. Prepare yourselves
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is just a my take on the perfect Beauty and the Beast, starring our beautiful Emma, and super super hott Killian Jones. Inspired by me listening to "Monster" by Imagine Dragons nonstop. (Go listen to it) AU **

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. I can't even imagine what I would do with Hook if I did ;)**

_I get the feeling ,just because,_

_Evertyhing I touch isn't dark enough._

_(Imagine Dragons: Monster)_

~Prologue~

Once upon a time in a far away land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. He had all his heart could possibly ever desire, his beautiful Milah, his vast expanse of riches; he was happy.

Until tragedy struck.

His dear Milah, struck with a heart attack, left him.

He was alone. Utterly. Completely.

His servants began to see a difference in their young master. His eyes grew dark with the shadows of his past, and his heart grew colder than the Northern Plains. At night they could hear him screaming out, in gut-wrenching agony, and cold-blooded fury. They began to fear the boy the had used to love.

One winter's night, an old beggar woman came to his grand palace doors. "Sir," she implored, "buy a rose, a beautiful rose, and help a woman in pain."

He sneered down at the intruder of his solitude. He turned the woman away, unfulfillment and discomfort surging through his cold, empty heart, until he heard her voice again.

"Sir," again, though this time more admonishing, as though talking to a naughty child.

Killian took her tone as a knife. He was no naughty child! He was a broken man, could she not see that?

He snarled at her. "Leave my home."

"Do you not see the beauty of the rose."

"I see beauty in nothing."

"Beauty is found within."

He raised his furious eyes to the old woman, warning her once again to leave.

She smiled sadly. She began to shed her skin. It looked quite painful to Prince Killian, but he was too astonished at her new form to care for her pain. Before him stood a beautiful woman, an Enchantress, the well known Regina.

Regina was known for her curses. She only cursed those she deemed worthy, but the curses were indeed nothing a person should wish upon another person.

He begged her to reconsider, give him another chance! But the wretchedly beautiful woman had seen enough, had seen no love in his heart.

As punishment, she turned his staff into wisps, and him into a hideous monster. Not an animal, mind you. She turned him inside out. She took the broken, scarred-ness that was his self to create a broken, scarred form, covered in scars, deformities, bags, and she left him.

But not before she handed him the rose, explaining to him that the fragile flower was his redemption. If he could find someone to love him, she explained, before the last petal fell, he would be restored to his natural self. If he could find only people like him, people who found no beauty in the broken, he was forever doomed to remain a monster.

She left him.

He stared at his rose, held in a sickly, shaking hand. He saw no redemption in the intricate folds of the flower. He saw only his fate, his fate as a terrible monster, for who could ever love a monster?

He looked to the moon and screamed, he howled, he screeched, he cried, he gave the most hideous, tortured cries he could.

His staff, now wisps of longing and sadness, watched as their master embraced the monster he had become.

**A/N:**

**I have some great plans to make this a multichapter fic, and will stay close to the well known story, but will add my own things. Like he's not an animal, because I couldn't understand how Belle could fall in love with an actual animal. So he's just an infortunate looking fellow.**

**Stick with me, the first few chapters are pretty much just the setting and getting familiar with characters, but I'll try to make it interesting. :)**

**So send some reviews my way, if you so desire, because they fill my muses, and also my heart haha. **

**Rate and Review!**

**Lots of Love ~Mrs Killian Jones: Pureblood**


	2. The Shepherd and His Daughter

**A/N: This is just a my take on the perfect Beauty and the Beast, starring our beautiful Emma, and super super hott Killian Jones. Inspired by me listening to "Monster" by Imagine Dragons nonstop. (Go listen to it) AU **

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. I can't even imagine what I would do with Hook if I did ;)**

~Chapter 1~

~300 Years Later~

Green eyes meet blue. Both sets of eyes narrow. The owner of the green eyes growls. The owner of the blue eyes smirks.

"Checkmate."

The green eyes sparkle as the blue eyes stare in disbelief at the crudely homemade chess board.

The blue eyes look up. "How?..." David Nolan manages to croak.

The green eyed girl throws back her head and laughs. "Father, you of all people must understand that I can beat anyone should I put my mind to it!"

David laughs. The girl joins in, and the town crazy and his daughter laugh together. Eventually, the laughter subsides. David begins to grow restless as they gaze upon the sunset.

"Emma," he begins, then stops.

Emma looks at him expectantly. "Yes, Father?"

"Baelfire," he begins again, then again stops as her head snaps around to stare at him through a thoroughly terrifying glare.

"I wish not to speak of him," she says stiffly. Her eyes narrowed further. "Nor how many offers he may have made for me."

David the shepherd sighs wearily. "Emma, you know you need thi-"

"I most certainly do not!" she cries indignantly, and stands to prove her point further.

"A woman marries for love, father, not for…for money, or status, and most certainly not for her father's debts to be paid," she spits.

"It's not like that," he says indignantly. "You, of all people, should know that this union would be very beneficial to both-"

Emma snorts. "Marriage is not meant to be beneficial, Father, it's meant to be hard work. it's meant to be disastrous and chaotic, and above all, it's meant to be MY CHOICE."

David sighed dejectedly. "You used to love him."

Emma begins to pick up the game. "Yes," she says pleasantly, as though discussing the weather. "I also used to think he wasn't a son of a -"

"Emma," he says sharply.

She sighs. "I apologize, Father." She sighs again. "I just...I just thought he was someone else. And," she adds thoughtfully. "I'd rather not talk about it."

David sighs again, but nods, respecting his daughter's wishes. He knows how she feels. Love is messy. Especially for a girl with all the wrong views on the subject.

**A/N:**

**Sorry for such a short chapter! I wrote it late, and anyway, I have more on the way tomorrow, so don't fret, my munchkins!**

**Anyhoo, I'd like to do SHOUTOUTS! YAY! **

**Well, first off, I'd like to thank 5289belle! Belle, you were my first favorite-er (favoriteer, favoriter? IDK) AND my first follower for this story! You made me smile, and it takes a special munchkin like you to do it. ;)**

**SHOUTOUT! to phoward for being my second to follow in the footsteps of belle, AND following my first story! (You don't need to follow that one: it wont ever change because it's a oneshot) BUT I STILL I love you so much! :)**

**and finally, a SHOUTOUT! to tarte hearte for being a favorite-er AND follower for BOTH of my stories! Like, cue the round of applause for this munchkin right here! MML. **

**Last SHOUTOUT!'s to all you reviewers! Keep reviewing! You guys have NO idea how happy it makes me. (I check like every five minutes; you guys are seriously the sweetest.)**

**Hugs and Kisses!**

**~Mrs Killian Jones: pureblood~**


	3. Too Little, Too Late

**A/N: This is just a my take on the perfect Beauty and the Beast, starring our beautiful Emma, and super super hott Killian Jones. Inspired by me listening to "Monster" by Imagine Dragons nonstop. (Go listen to it) AU**

**This chapter consists of David meeting the Monster, ok, my munchkins? I know I've been forcing ya'll to just read boring stuff, but I swear on chocolate covered pretzels it will get better: just trying to set the characters and mood. Don't hate me, cuz you know I love ya'll.**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. I can't even imagine what I would do with Hook if I did ;)**

_I never said that I want this;_

_This burden came to me._

_And it made it's home inside._

_~Imagine Dragons: Monster_

~Chapter 2~

"How long will you be gone, Father?"

David looks down at his worried daughter with a smile on his face. "Come now, daughter, I'm not that old."

Emma smiles back, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. Emma hates staying alone, and he knows it. But debts must be paid, and if his daughter was not willing to remove them with marriage, he would remove them with labor and pain, but less pain than seeing Emma unhappy.

Even so, he did not want to go.

"Alright," Emma says reluctantly after a quick hug. "Write me?"

He smiles softly and presses a kiss to her forehead. "Everyday."

She smiles and he mounts his steed, and rides off into the daybreak, never once looking back at his daughter, who watches him until he is no longer within sight, then stares at where she last saw him.

She crumples down onto the grass and cries. She was alone again.

….

David looks around uneasily. He had been so focused on reading the map in his hand, he had not noticed when he took a wrong turn. And then another. And another. And yet another.

His horse began to whinny, then reared upon his hind legs, all but throwing the startled shepherd of his back. The horse lurched forward, at a pace no shepherd had traveled before. An earth shattering howl erupted from behind him. Wolves? There were no wolves in these parts. Where did they come -

Suddenly, horse and shepherd collide with the pack head on. "WHA-"

The wolves-yes he could see now they were wolves- had been behind him only a moment ago. He quickly jerks his wild-eyed horse to the left, and as he glances behind, he sees the wolves, dark as night, ….erupt? Yes, they erupt into dark fragments of glass, only to reform in front of the freshly terrified David.

Dark Magic.

With a loud and shaky, "Hyah!" to his valiant steed, he crashes through the forest, knowing there's no escape, but fighting anyway.

Suddenly, collision.

An invisible barrier had stopped David from moving on. The horse, officially done with this, rears, dropping David onto the cold, hard ground.

The unfaithful runs out of sight, and therefore, out of mind.

David looks to the general area of the barrier, just as he feels a whirlwind of glass settling down beside him. A shard grazes his skin, and he cries out in pain. No longer caring what became of him, he stumbles back as he tries to stand.

He stumbles into the barrier.

Which is no longer there.

David looks up. Where there had, just moments ago, been a dark expanse of woodland, now loomed an equally dark expanse of castle. Gargoyles lined the perimeter, grimacing and grinning at David, and fountains overrun with shrubs occasionally spouted a dark, sludgy liquid.

It's dark and foreboding, but David doesn't care. He's no Prince Charming, so he will take whatever castle he can over glass wolves with bloodlust.

He stumbles on towards the grand palace doors, and he begins to hope. He could be welcomed in, for as he well knew, looks could be decieving. Perhaps the owner of this grand place was far too old to care for the grounds, or perhaps no one lives there at all.

Officially hopeful, David limps to the door and pounds.

No one answers.

He pounds again, just for good measure, before trying the door.

Unlocked.

He presses his weight against the creaky entrance and cautiously walks in.

There is no light, no family portraits, no mirrors, no anything. He shrugs, surely no one would live in these circumstances. Still, he can't shake the feeling of being watched. Being sized up. Like prey right before the predator devours him whole.

He shivers.

Mustering all the courage he has left -which isn't a lot- he breathes in and out, and walks down the never ending hall, his hand pressed against the wall for guidance.

Just as he begins to believe the hallway is enchanted to never end, his hand meets nothing but air, and he stumbles into a new opening.

His hand gropes the wall, and just as he is about to give up and go home -surely the wolves have left?- a slight gust of wind pushes him into something that feels like a cupboard. He opens the cupboard door cautiously and gropes around it, his fingers settling on what feels like a candlestick. He quickly finds a candle and upon further searching, finds some matches.

He strikes a match and lights the candle. The light is dim, but helps immensely. He sees a grand clock, noting the hour to be eleven. Seeing more candles, he hurries to light them all, and is astounded at the view that greets him.

It is indeed a palace fit for a prince.

A grand fireplace stands proudly in the north of the room, with a large chair a few feet from it, almost begging David to be it's occupant and rest his weary feet.

Frames and an old mirror also adorn the wall, although the mirror appears to be shattered, and the pictures inside the frame torn. But one would expect as much, seeing as there was dust covering every inch of grandeur.

But beggars may not be choosers, and what is a little dust to a man who has just been chased down by vicious wolf figurines?

A little dust is nothing.

Carefully lighting a match and tossing in some old wooden frames, David leans back onto the chair, sighing as his feet scream with relief.

Sitting in such a grand setting, has David almost believing he could be a prince. He straightens a bit in his chair, and smirks a bit. Yes, he quite likes the feeling of being in charge, but having no responsibilities. He likes it very much indeed.

Emma would love it.

His smirk disappears as he remembers his daughter, the girl who really was a princess to him, the girl who was waiting for him back home. His dear baby Emma. Sighing, and looking wistfully around the room, he stands and readies for a quick departure.

He is no prince, and should not waste his time pretending to be one while his only reminder of his Mary Margaret lies alone at the house. The debts could wait.

He grabs a candle, and upon reaching the dark doors, catches a glimmer in the corner of his eye.

"What is that?" He inches closer to the gleaming thing, which turns out to be two, three, four thousand gleaming things.

Little gold pieces.

Little cut jewels.

His eyes light up. This could suffice to pay all the debts, feed him and Emma for years to come, buy a new place.

Emma could marry for love, not for payment.

Quickly glancing around, although he knows no one to be there, he begins to plop the currency into every available spot on his clothes.

It's not until he's almost done that he feels it. The wind. Not harsh like the wolves, but urgent, angry, afraid. The wind grows stronger and stronger, like a mysterious force telling him to leave now, there's no more time.

He sets his mouth in a grim line and stands, once again ready for departure. He strides to the door, and walks out.

No wolves.

He sighs and begins at a quick pace to the large gates, stopping only to inspect some dead vegetation. However, upon further inspection, he sees a little flower growing through the impossible. He smiles. Much like his Emma.

Picking the fragile rose bud, he begins once again to the gates, but an earth-shattering roar causes his to stumble and collapse to the ground.

He grips the flower tighter, and glances around furtively.

"Who-" he clears his throat."Who goes there?"

A dark chuckle sounds from the shadow of a grinning gargoyle. "You dare to ask me, when you are the trespasser on my castle?"

"I-I'm sorry, I was unaware-"

"Unaware?"

"Yes, and quite, and quite frightened!"

The voice laughs dryly. "Frightened of what, old man? The dark?" The shadow shifts, but still does not reveal himself.

Suddenly, very close to his ear, "I AM the dark you fool."

David pales, but swallows: Emma grew up without a mother, she would not do the same with her father.

"Please, sir," he implores, throat dry. "Please. I must get back home-"

"This could be your home." The voice is so close David shudders. "You could be a prince alongside me, we could play games of conquest, of revenge. You must stay."

David almost didn't hear the words, "You must suffer as I."

But he did. If only barely.

If there was anything David had learned on his journey through life, it was that people driven by revenge, under the sick delusion that it was justice, were dangerous, deadly even. They had lost all hope.

David tries again, growing all the more desperate. "Please! I must return to my daughter, she-"

The shadow, the MONSTER, if you will, suddenly whispered, "Daughter?"

"Yes!" David cries, hoping to have found some human left in the monster. "My daughter, she needs me, she-"

"She needs to be taken care of?"The voice was growing softer, but the impact was harder.

"Y-yes. She needs to be taken care of. She needs it a lot."

The shadow straightens some, but remains a tad hunched. Like he can't help it. "She needs taking care of. I shall take care of her," he says, like it has been decided three hundred years ago.

"Excuse me?!" David says, fear gone, indignance in. "My daughter is not a trophy nor is she an item for me to hand to you to care for…" he trails off, thinking of Baelfire, and how he had been on the other side just a few moments ago. "Oh, forgive me Mary Margaret, you married the town fool," he breathes.

The monster waits a moment before saying dryly, "I get the feeling that you actually DO view your daughter as a trophy, and a trinket."

The monster snaps his fingers. A wind starts up again, loudly, angrily, hungrily, rushing towards David with the strength of a great typhoon.

David looks at the monster, the broken man who steps out of the shadows just enough to grin sinisterly before saying, "I'm really only doing her a favor."

The wind envelops David, sharp pricks slicing his arms, his neck, his face, over and over again, like an army of angry knives. He cries out, yells for Emma to run, to hide, but as the wind suddenly stops and drops him in an empty, dark, and ransacked house, he knows.

Too little. Too late.

**A/N: Sorry this one came out so late! I was having technological difficulties, aha.**

**SHOUTOUT!'s to paulaboomcamp, grapejuice057, ladyluck1155, and ouatcs (nice username ;) ) **

**Anyhoo, you guys are the sweetest! Sweeter than the chocolate covered strawberries I love! Sweeter than Killian from the show before he lost Liam. (which was really sweet; and attractive.)**

**Keep dropping some reviews my way! Ask questions, leave prompts and suggestions and ideas, and I'll do my best to answer them! **

**Hugs and Kisses and Chocolate Covered Strawberries,**

**~Mrs Killian Jones: Pureblood.**


	4. Curses You

**This chapter consists Emma being in the same place as Killian, but never meeting him. He,however, meets her. WARNINGS!: Depression and Suicide Attempts ahead. Don't worry: nothing too graphic. I have a phobia of blood. (FUNFACT!) Also, (spoiler alert) no one dies.**

**In this chapter.**

**3**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. I can't even imagine what I would do with Hook if I did ;)**

_If I told you what I was,_

_Would you turn your back on me?_

_And if I seem dangerous,_

_Would you be scared?_

_~Imagine Dragons: Monster_

Emma is simply been minding her own business when it happens. Well, honestly, she's been hiding behind the tattered sofa as Baelfire pounds on her door, yelling for her to open up, what happened to be being friends?

She bites her tongue as to where she had put their friendship, and rearanges herself nimbly behind the sofa, trying in vain to ignore his proclamations of love, shouted above the pounding of his relentless fists.

She put her hands over her ears, extremely angry at the jerk, the MONSTER, pounding at her door. "Go away, go away, go away," she whispered, pretending to be yelling at him, giving her some satisfaction.

Suddenly, the pounding stopped.

She peeks her head over the furniture, and glances at the curtained window.

It looked dark out.

But it had barely been the midday only moments before! She squints. The windows begin to shiver, and the door begins to quake.

"Wha….!"

The room begins to shudder, then to spasm. The windows shatter, the door implodes. Emma ducks again behind the sofa, fear eating away at her insides. What is going on?

A blanket of darkness envelops her, and she screams out. This is not how she planned to die! She struggles, in vain, against the tangible darkness that holds her captive.

She hears her name being screamed out. "Father? FATHER! DADDY, DADDY HELP ME. DADDY." Her body convulsing with heart wrenching sobs, she shoves against the black wall, only for it to cut at her, like knives. Did the wall just snarl at her?

She throws her entire body weight (not much) against the opposing force, and immediately cries out in pain.

The feeling of one-thousand knives had pierced her, her head, her neck, her stomach, her heart.

The pain finally too much for her to take, she collapses, whimpering, "Daddydaddydaddydaddy," until the darkness takes over not only her body, but her entire being, and succombs to the darkness.

…..

Emma wakes, her head pounding. She groans and snuggles deeper into her mattress, pulling her blankets tightly around her. Everything feels perfect.

She bolts upright.

She doesn't have multiple blankets, let alone a feather-filled mattress. She glances around the room, assessing her surroundings. A large, cozy room, the used-to-be-white wallpaper faded to a pleasant yellow, little white swans adorning the wallpaper. A bookshelf lies waiting in one corner, a large fireplace in the other. A door leads to another room, which, upon further inspection, is a chamber pot and bath. She strides to the window. A sixty-foot drop, at least. It would kill her to jump.

She'll save it for emergencies.

She walks to the door, and drops to her belly, trying to see under the door. Nothing. She puts her ear up to the crack. Nothing. She looks again, one last time for safety. A pair of feet stop in the doorway.

She stifles her gasp and rolls back, away from the door. She jumps into the bed again, hiding under the covers as though they could protect her from the inevitable.

….

She heard the footsteps walk away many minutes later. They were uneven, like the owner had a limp.

She shudders. Knowing that you'll be taken advantage of by an old man is enough to make one wish to jump out the window.

She falls asleep some hours later.

…

A soft knocking on the door wakes her up. She groggily lifts her head and stares at the door.

The knocking comes again. Still soft, but more persistent. A voice calls to her. The voice is rough from disuse, and tries again. The voice is still rough, but from impatience. Emma rolls over and stares at the window again.

…..

Later, the rough voice returns. It pleads with her, begs her, yells at her, screams at her, growls at her, threatens to break down the door.

Emma grits her teeth and waits for the voice to leave her alone.

….

A plate of bread and water slides under the door with a note. "Come and meet me in the dining room for a real meal. You can't refuse to eat forever."

Well, that may be true, but Emma is willing to try. She smashes the plate against the wall and watches the food slide down to the floor.

…

Days later, Emma has proven that one can indeed go long without food or drink. But it hurts. Her stomach stopped complaining, but now her head is fuzzy, hazy, like she's not really there.

Emma has found a spot comfortably close to the window.

To freedom.

….

One night, Emma and the Voice get into an argument. It's the first time Emma had spoken at all, but when she speaks, the Voice listens. Listens to her pleading, her crying and sobbing, listens to her scream and call him inhuman.

He screams back.

Emma looks at the window.

Ignoring his screams and profanities, she opens the window, a cool breeze pushing her back. Back into her room.

Back into captivity.

Emma loves many things. Chess. Horses. Swords. Her father. Emma can do many things. Chess. Riding. Fight. Fight some more.

But something Emma hates, something she cannot do, is be caged in.

Ignoring the increasingly persistent winds, now howling at her, she steps off the ledge, and jumps into the frigid night air, plummeting down to her demise.

As she fell, she wondered.

How funny it was!

How funny that demise should be freedom for anyone.

Just as she's about to hit murky moat water, the wind pushes up, not enough to save her, but enough to soften the impact, slow the fall just enough to hear a voice calling out to her. Just in time to hear a voice, the Voice, yelling at the wind. How queer for one to argue with nature. Even queerer to drive a girl to this.

"Lass-Lass- Don't-LASS!"

She plunges.

…

Killian curses himself. He does it often, curses himself for letting Milah die, for not letting go, for not holding on, for falling victim to a curse, for being a monster. But now?

Now is different.

The blonde haired lass he had seen only briefly, as she fell gracefully from her window like a swan, plunges into the moat.

Curse you, Killian. Curse you. Curse you, Killian. Curse you.

He throws off his leather coat and plunges after her.

The water hits him like a cold slap in the face. It's murky, the water, and he can only barely just make out her figure sinking a few feet away.

Curse you, Killian. Curse you. Curse you, Killian. Curse you.

He pushes his way through vines, and shoves aside a scaly creature, trying to dive down deeper to the sinking girl. His lungs burn. His legs are sore. He wants to let her die. She couldn't love him, she doesn't even like him.

She threw herself out a window to keep him away from her.

So let her stay away!

But this...this is death. Or life. His choice.

Curse you, Killian. Curse you. Curse you, Killian. Curse you.

Just as he feels his lungs burst into a fiery mess, he grabs the blond tresses and a hand, dragging up a lifeless body.

Lifeless because of him.

Just like Milah.

Lifeless.

Curse you, Killian. Curse you. Curse you, Killian. Curse. You.

**A/N:**

**Hope you liked it! I've just been busy with back to school work and yeah...it sucks.**

**Anyway, SHORT STORY TIME! YAY!**

**So today, my English teacher tells us to make a card with an inspirational quote so we can present it to the class. Something that tells our character and what not. **

**Guess what quote I used.**

**Go ahead.**

**Guess. **

**"A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets." :D Sca-doosh.**

**I also had to get a book, and I randomly picked a book called Shiver. Has anyone read it? Is it any good? My brat friend got TFIOS before I could. **

**ANOTHER SHORT STORY:**

**I got a lot of my friends Hooked on the show (pun intended: cue laughter) **

**But**

**Guess**

**WHAT?!**

**My friend said she loved Neal.**

**I'm reconsidering our friendship. **

**Hugs and Kisses and Cursings of Killian,**

**~Mrs Killian Jones: Pureblood.**


	5. Never Comes Back

**This chapter consists of Emma and Killian properly meeting. Well sort of properly. Meeting. At least meeting. I can definitely say there is some meeting involved.**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. I can't even imagine what I would do with Hook if I did ;)**

_Can I clear my conscience, _

_If I'm different from the rest?_

_~Imagine Dragons: Monster_

Emma vaguely feels herself jolt. Like someone is pounding on her chest.

Jolt. Pound. Jolt. Pound.

She feels herself slowly,oh so slowly, coming back from….from what? It hadn't been death, surely. She had just been feeling so warm and content and bright, but the pounding and jolting was bringing her back. Back to the cold, to the discomfort, to the...Voice.

Currently speaking in-you guessed it- extremely loud tones to-you guessed again- wind.

How does one have a conversation with the wind? she wonders briefly, before regurgitating water and was that some sort of lake vegetation?

The yelling stops.

"Lass?" the voice says incredulously. "She's alive?!" he shouts to no one in particular. Turning to an empty corner he says, "So sorry to have doubted you."

A pause.

"What do you MEAN I never apologize? I ALWAYS apologize!"

A mumbled, "Shutup."

Finally, a grumpy, "Lass?"

Emma turns to her captor,and is nothing short of astonished.

He's…

Kind of gorgeous.

It's not his body, and it's sure as heck isn't his attitude. It's his eyes. Unmistakably blue, even in the dim light. She looks at him for the first time.

His hair is dark, disheveled. Matted. It almost looks like he's been pulling at it.

His face is long, pale, withdrawn. Sickly. His eyes are bagged, his stubble growing in a frenzied mess. He looks sick.

His body looks like it used to be tall, but it's now hunched over. His hands are large, and crooked, broken looking. His feet are awkwardly large. He looks sick.

Very sick.

And wet.

Why on earth?...Oh.

She remembers. The window. The jump. The water. The brief escape. The brief freedom.

Her eyes narrow.

The Voice. Jerk.

He's staring at her, obviously waiting for something.

Oh, she will sooo give him something.

Her eyes still slits, she stares at him. "You kidnapped me."

"I brought you here."

"Against my will."

"I welcomed you."

"I don't remember the last time I ate. Oh! Wait! It was right before you kidnapped me."

"I didn't kidnap you."

"Yes you did."

"I beg to differ."

"Beggars can't be choosers." She's sitting up now, and he's glaring at her.

"I am not a beggar."

"Nope, I agree: You're a kidnapper."

"I-"

"You made me jump out of a window."

"No-"

"You're insane."

"You-"

"You talk to invisible people."

"I-"

"YOU FREAKING KIDNAPPED ME!"

"YOUR FATHER GAVE YOU TO ME!"

She stops. She had managed to stand and was now dangerously close to toppling over. "He would never…"

"Not even for a debt?"

"No! He…"

"He said you needed taking care of and I offered my assistance."

"Stop…"

"He didn't even put up any resistance!"

"You're lying!"

"A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets, love." He sneers, and she cannot deny his hideousness. No pretty blue eyes could make up for that.

She feels her heart break.

Her father wouldn't do that!

...Would he?

After all, he had been seriously considering marrying her off to Baelfire to pay some debts. Why not the Voice?

But he had never spoken of the Voice before. He couldn't know him. So he couldn't owe him.

Her eyes narrow.

` "What debts do I pay for?"

"His thievery."

Emma feels her jaw drop. Father doesn't steal!

Then again, until moments ago, she believed he didn't sell his only daughter to strange men.

She feels him smirking and looks up.

He's smirking. "Not a very charming man, your father. Not charming at all."

"He's twice the man YOU'LL ever be," she snarls.

She watches him flinch. He snarls back.

"You don't know me."

"I know you kidnap innocent girls, and lie to them, and…" she stops. Her face pales. "Oh my…" her voice trails off to a whisper. "Where is he?"

"Sorry, love, speak louder."

"Where is he?!" she screams, throwing herself at him amidst a tornado of furious fists."What did you do to my father?!" Her fists slow and she drops her head on his chest, missing the look of surprise on the Voice's face.

She starts sobbing.

He pushes back, and she crumples onto the floor.

"I sent him home."

…..

Hours later, Killian hears footsteps outside his library. He stiffens as the door opens. She walks in. He ignores her, until she speaks.

"You're bleeding."

He stiffens in surprise, and glances down at his forearm. There is, indeed, blood. Bugger. Must have snagged onto something in the moat.

Still refusing to look at her, he stares at his book intently. "I'm not bleeding. It's dried up now."

He feels her nod, and she leaves.

He continues to stare at his book.

A few minutes later, she comes back with a large bowl. He hides his surprise with more book-staring.

He continues to ignore her until she touches him. Not touches, he corrects himself: attacks. She had taken a rag out of the bowl and started wiping his arm.

He roars. Literally roars. "WHAT THE BLOODY-? WHAT IS THAT, WOMAN?!"

She hums as she dips the rag back into the bowl. "Rum. And a waste of it at that." She starts dabbing his arm again, staring into his eyes, daring him to stop her.

He stares back. Finally she says, as though discussing the weather, "I heard what you said."

He raises a brow, that had long since been reduced to a sad pale replica of the ones he used to own. "And what would that be, love?"

"That you sent my father home. Did you? Really?" Her eyes narrow. "Or are you lying to me?"

He's actually surprised. He really is. "Why would I lie to you? I may be a…" a monster, he thinks, and clears his throat. "But I'm a man of honour."

Emma snorts. "I'm sure."

He glares at her. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You kidnapped me."

"For the last bloody time, I did NOT kidnap you!"

Suddenly, she's in his face, and he feels his breath catch. Her eyes are a very beautiful green. "Listen, whoever you are: I have a superpower of sorts. I can tell when someone's lying to me. And YOU," she leans even closer, and he's forced to lean back, "are lying to me."

He feels like she has a knife at his throat. He doesn't answer.

"Tell. Me. The. Truth," she snarls. Actually snarls.

Perhaps, thinks Killian, I am not the only one with the side of a monster here.

"Fine," he spits. "I kidnapped you. Happy?"

"No, I am not happy you kidnapped me. I wish to go home."

"You are home."

"Home is where the heart is. And nothing here has any claim on my heart." With that she spins on her heel and out of the room. He stares at the door she just passed through.

She had bested him.

No one bests Killian Jones.

How does one go about besting a monster?

He ponders that, until suddenly her blonde head pokes around the door.

"Thank you. For saving my life."

And she's gone.

Killian stares at the spot she had just graced, then stares down at the arm she had nursed.

With his rum.

She used his rum?! Bloody woman, she doesn't know who-what- she's up against.

He stares at the door.

She doesn't come back again.

**A/N: **

**Hey Munchkins!**

**I am so, so, so, SO SORRY about the late update. Today was, like, terrible and emotionally, then terrible and homework-y. Ugh. **

**You guys are seriously the best. Like, I'm sitting here crying, and I see your reviews and I. Freaking. Smile. Do you know how big of an accomplishment that is?!**

**Huge.**

**So, then:**

**SHOUTOUT! to maxandthalia for being a new friend, and also schnitzel31, who was sweet enough to send a review my way! :')**

**Good tears, guys. I'm feeling it.**

**ANYHOO, I just want you guys to know how fantastic you are. Seriously. Like, when I feel bad, sometimes I think, "Well, if I was a character in a book, the people would love me all the more for my flaws."**

**Keep that in mind you beautiful munchkins, you. :)**

**Keep the reviews coming, they really do make a difference in my day! I love you all!**

**Hugs and Kisses and Happy Tears,**

**~Mrs Killian Jones: Pureblood**


	6. For Emma

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. I can't even imagine what I would do with Hook if I did ;)**

David had landed in torn up house. But he's not there now. Now, he stands in front of the bar doors, where he knows Baelfire to be, as he and his drunk buddies sing praises to him.

Imbeciles.

He takes a shuddering breath and steps in. The singing and shouting stops, and all eyes turn to him.

"AY, it's David!"

"Finally get out from underneath the rocks?"

"How's the weather in whatever land you left your brain in?"

"DAVID!" Baelfire's booming voice reaches David just before the man himself. His words are slurred, and he reeks of beer, alcohol, and twenty different kinds of pathetic. He flinches as he imagines himself almost sending Emma off to love this man.

"WHAT BRINGS YOU DOWN HERE?!" His voice is obnoxiously loud.

"My daughter."

Baelfire's eyes flash with anger. "The brat that broke her promise?" As an afterthought, he adds, "and my heart."

David rolls his eyes.

"No," he says in low tones. "She's been taken." At Bae's blank gaze, he adds, "by a beast."

Bae laughs and the entire bar joins in. "A beastie has kindnapped the princess?" He slams his mug down. "Good riddance!" He raises his already shouting voice. "DRINKS ON ME TONIGHT, BOYS!" A resounding cheer and chant of his name echo across the room.

"LISTEN TO ME!" David shouts, desperation taking hold of the normally calm shepherd. "Whoever can save my daughter, is rewarded with my daughter."

Baelfire snorts. "Some prize! We don't go on quests to save witches; we go on quests to save ladies."

"AND!" David shouts, "THIS." He slams a portion of the jewels and gold from the monster.

Silence possesses the room.

"Well" Baelfire says quietly. "It seems we have ourselves a deal." He grins, but it lacks warmth, and gives off only a cold, calculating feeling.

David shivers.

It's for Emma. They'll figure something out when she gets back.

"Of course," Baelfire says loudly, "I will require a down-payment." He grabs all his large hands can carry off the table and winks. "Just so you don't get...cold feet." He nods to two men, and David finds himself roughly grabbed by the shoulders and thrown out the bar doors and into the snow.

He stares at the bar, thinking over and over again of the promises he doesn't intend to keep, but had to be made.

That doesn't make him a monster, does it?

No.

It's for Emma.

It's for Emma.

**A/N:**

**Sorry for the delay and lack of length today! It was my sister's bday celebration, and I wasn't even going to update, but a certain reviewer changed my mind. :)**

**A pretty uneventful day, kind of melancholy, so nothing really to say except:**

**Thanks to divergentshadowhunter99 for favoriting me. :)Love it when people love me and my rants and writings. Also:**

**Big SHOUTOUT to ladyofkeegan and 4getfulimaginator for being new followers! Welcome to the insanity that is us! :) And lastly also:**

**OMIGOSH SCHNITZEL31, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. You made my day! Your reviews are just so positive and kind and I was just grinning like a dork, really glad no one of importance could see me. **

**I've decided we are now best friends forever. **

**Are you guys jealous?**

**Leave some reviews and we'll see where the friendships lie... (*cue dramatic music*)**

**Hugs and Kisses and Schnitzel-Love,**

**Mrs Killian Jones: Pureblood.**


	7. Dangerously Close to Awe

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. I can't even imagine what I would do with Hook if I did ;)**

_I'm only a man with a candle to guide me.  
_

_~Imagine Dragons_

Killian steels his nerves. He doesn't even know why he's nervous! It's not like he even remotely _likes _this Emma lass! She's obnoxious and jumped off a tower to escape him, and wasted his rum.

NO ONE wastes his rum.

But none the less, here he is, standing in front of her door like a bloody schoolboy. He stiffens and raises his hand to knock, decides not to, and starts to walk away. A gentle breeze pushes him back. He scowls and knocks on the door, gently calling, "Lass? Lass are you up yet?"

Nothing.

He sighs in relief before he hears a sleepy,but stern voice say, "Yes. Go away."

He almost smiles. He almost does! But he swallows again and says, "I have something I would like you to see, love."

"Don't call me that."

"What?"

"Don't call me 'love'. I'm not your love. I'm the girl you kidnapped."

"I DID NOT- you know what, whatever. If you look past your humongous ego, I think you'll like what I have for you."

"Do you have any idea how creepy you sound?"

"Do you have any idea how obnoxious you are?"

"Better to be obnoxious than to be a kidnapper."

"Better to be a kidnapper than a spoiled brat."

"Too bad you're both, then."

Killian growls.

After she had thanked him and left last night, he had sat in an awe-like state for hours, thinking. As he thought, he thought of her. What did she like? What did she dislike (besides him)? What was she good at? What was she bad at? After hours of pondering, he had decided what he thought she might like. So he and the staff had spent the entire night- or what was left of it- creating, cleaning, beautifying. He had almost felt hypocritical, standing and helping to make it beautiful, when he himself was so hideous. But he had merely grit his teeth and continue to work with the wind.

Ultimately he had gone to bed proud, for the first time in forever.

So here he is now, standing in front of her door, trying to offer her an apology of sorts, yet she was stubbornly refusing what he had to give her.

Killian ins't positive, but he's almost sure that she's the spoiled brat in this scenario.

He knocks again.

"Whaaaaaaat?!"

"Lass, I demand you open up!"

"I demand you go away."

"Open up!"

"Shut up!"

"Oh, for the love of- just open up already!"

"And why should I?"

He growls. "Try something new, Darling: it's called 'trust'."

He hears her voice, very close to the door, very close to _him. _

_"Screw. You."_

After a moment, however, he hears her say, "Give me a moment; I'm indecent."

"You're decent enough for me," he says impatiently, before he hears her scuffling stop, and realizing what he said. "No, I- no, that's not-no."

He's not sure, but he's pretty sure he hears her call him a creep.

Creep is better than monster, at least.

After a moment the door opens, and despite his resolve to hate the lass, he feels pity take over him. She stands in front of him in the clothes she's worn the entire time she has spent here. Her hair is a nest, her eyes overly large on her pale, malnourished face. She is still quite beautiful, but her pitiful state she appears more the ugly duckling than the graceful swan.

He feels her feel his pity, and watches as she visibly stiffens. "I don't need your pity," she snarls.

"No, no, of course not," he replies quickly. "And none you shall get." He pauses and contemplates her. "However," he muses aloud. "What you shall get is a new change of clothes."

"I already told you; no pity."

"And I already told you; you won' t get any from me. New clothes has nothing to do with pity." He crinkles his nose that has long since lost it's capability of smelling. "It has to do with your stench."

She scowls, bringing his attention to her face. Stained with dirt and water streaks and is that some lake vegetation in her hair? For a moment he thinks, _She tended to me before she tended to herself, _but he immediately dismisses the thought.

The lass is still scowling.

He sighs. "Stay here a moment."

He turns down the hall, down the stairs, down some more stairs, and reaches his bed chambers. He clenches his jaw and rifles through his drawers. Pushing aside his clothes-though he would mind her in his clothes- he reaches for a plain blue blouse and white skirt. Milah's.

He sighs and goes back to the girl.

When he reaches her, she's staring at him suspiciously. "What?" he demands as he hands her the clothes.

"It took you awhile to get to your room and back."

"Yes, lass; there's quite a distance between us."

She doesn't say anything, then glances at the clothes. "Women's," she says almost disdainfully.

He shrugs and smirks, feeling like she's just driven a knife into his gut and twisted. "What can I say, love? I enjoy myself a good cross-dress every once in a while."

She rolls her eyes, before slamming the door and walking back out the door. She stares at him expectantly.

"What?"

"Lead the way," she gives a mocking salute. "_Captain."_

...

Emma feels her mind reel as the walk in silence down the endless hallways. What was he planning to do to her? Why did she agree to go with him? She swallows and steps a bit farther away from him. The Voice.

The Voice looks at her. "My dear, we've arrived, and I would very much enjoy blindfolding you; a surprise is all about show, you know." He winks. Emma glares. She hates the Voice.

Before she can stop him, he's behind her, tightening a cloth around her eyes. Her mind goes into overdrive. "What are you doing?! Get AWAY from me, you slimy, vindictive, terrible, mon-"

The blindfold is removed, and she sucks in her breath.

Books.

Hundreds

No thousands

MILLIONS

of books.

It's quite beautiful. She walks in a daze towards a case of old spines facing her. She traces the spines like she's never seen one before.

She had, in fact, seen many.

Back in town, she had been a bit of an odd ball. She read books instead of going to the bar with Baelfire. She read books instead of talking to the townsfolk. She read books instead of facing the harsh reality that is life.

She and David love reading.

"Lass...are you alright."

She turns to the sound of the Voice's...well, voice, and snaps, "Of course I'm alright. I'm obviously all right; these tears are just because I have a stick in my eye, obviously."

He nods and watches her as she turns back to her library.

...

Killian doesn't know if she likes it. She had looked surprised, certainly, but then she had cried! Why would she cry? Books aren't sad, are they? So he watches her, tyring to figure her out.

She catches him watching and scowls. He quickly gets up and walks to a certain book case holding a certain book. He grabs it, dusts it off, walks back to her, and holds the book out.

She reaches for it.

He pulls it out of reach.

She-of course- scowls.

"A game, princess," he says lightly. "A library for a name."

"Don't you have your own name?"

"Ah-ah," he chides. "_Your _name." He holds the book out again, just out of grasp. "A library," he gestures grandly, "for a name."

She scowls. After a moment, she says stubbornly, "Swan."

"Swan?"

"Yes."

"Your first name is Swan?"

"No."

"Well, what is it?"

She smiles. "That wasn't part of the deal. **_A_** name for a library. I have given you a name," she smiles wider, but still without too much joy, "and I now have a library."

She grabs the book from his awkward hands and walks away with a smirk. The smirk is _his _thing. But she has already walked out of the room, wearing it like she owned it._  
_

He stares after her in something dangerously close to awe.

**A/N:**

**SOSOSOSOSOSO SORRY MUNCHKINS! D: I really am sorry for abandoning you, but I've had a really busy week.**

**Oh the joys of being a teenager.**

**Anyway, SHORT STORY:**

**Someone asked me, "What's a fandom?"**

**I said, "Do you remember the trolls from Frozen?"**

**ANYWAY, you guys are the best, and I am SO SO SO SO sorry for that wait, but please R&R :)**

**Love you guysssss :) 3**

**Hugs and Kisses and Things Dangerously Close to Awe,**

**~Mrs Killian Jones: Pureblood**


	8. Deals

**Disclaimer: I freaking WISH i owned OUAT. Sadly..no.**

_I'm a monster._

_~Im__agine__ Dragons._

"OPEN UP!" Baelfire roars drunkenly, but in full control of his actions. He pounds loudly on his door, curses rolling off his liquor-scented tongue. "Open-"

"What's the magic word, Dearie?"

A sinister, sing-song voice disturbingly close to his ear. Baelfire shudders and rolls his eyes at the disfigured old man beside him. "I have a deal for you."

The old man cackles. "Oh, my dear sweet boy, I make the deals. You simply accept the terms."

Baelfire brings a paper out of his pocket, shoving the picture of a woman in the man's face.

The man visibly stiffens.

"Where... did you get that?"

"I have my places."

The man reaches for the paper. Baelfire holds it out of reach, just barely. He can almost feel the old man scowl. "Here's my deal," he says, only slightly slurring the words. "I give you information about your...whatever she is-"

The old man growls.

"-and you get me a solution for _my _problem."

'Sorry, dearie," the man snarls. "I have no solution for ugly coward."

"Do you want the girl or what?"

The man eyes the paper.

"Come in."

"Thank you, Rumpelstiltskin." As he passes pass Rumple, he smirks. "Papa."

Rumpelstiltskin shudders.

Upon entering the house behind his son, Rumple says, "Now what, dearie, is your problem? Besides the obvious, of course."

"David."

"David?"

"Yes. David Nolan."

"My, my, Bae. Here I was thinking you were chasing after EMMA Nolan, but it seems I was wrong."

"Shut up."

"Don'y use that tone of voice with me."

"David Nolan is a problem, and I need a certain solution." He holds up the drawing again.

"Well?"

"I'm finding Emma Nolan. And when I find her, I'm going to make her my wife."

"But-"

"She's the best. And don't I deserve the best?"

"Well-"

He flashes the paper again, knowing full well who will win this.

"I need you to ensure that David Nolan is put away for good if Emma refuses me."

"Refuses you _again,_you mean."

"Yes,"he spits. "Again. That's why I believe her father would be the proper...incentive. You know. To get her to love me." He smiles darkly.

Rumple is silent.

"Tick tock, Old Man."

He shoves the paper just ever so slightly closer to his father.

Rumple sighs and waves his hand, a shower of dark, shiny, fragments of magic sprinkling from his fingers like blood-rain. An image of David Nolan in the woods appears in the air. It appears as though the psychotic man went by himself to battle the "monster". A dark halo forms around David's form as they watch, a shadow of sorts. An evil shadow.

"It will follow him,"Rumple says wearily. "When he gets to close for comfort, the Shadow will bring him here. Emma will be shortly behind."

Baelfire looks at the dark magic almost lustfully.

Rumple coughs.

"My payment."

"All on the paper."

The paper thrown towards Rumple, Baelfire walks out, never glancing behind.

Rumple stares at the paper.

The information.

The picture.

Belle.

**A/N:**

**You guys are just the best and I thought you should know that :) Your reviews make me so happy, and I'll continue to try to answer them!**

**Stay Beautiful!**

**Hugs and Kisses and Deals we never intend to keep,**

**~Mrs Killian Jones: Pureblood**


	9. Fears

**Disclaimer: I freaking WISH i owned OUAT. Sadly..no.**

_Can I clear my conscious,_

_If I'm different than the rest? _

_Do I have to run and hide?_

_~Imagine Dragons_

"No. No. Absolutely not. Just, no."

The wind pushes just a little more persistently. Killian scowls. "What part of 'no', do you not understand?"

Killian is the only one in the world can take the hints of sarcasm in a gust of wind.

He smoothes his hair back. "Fine. Fine, ok." He spreads his arms out. "Do your best."

Killian could almost swear the wind smirked at him.

...

"AH! WHAT IN THE BLOODY TARNATION?! I CAN DRESS MYSELF, THANK YOU VERY MUCH." The wind, currently pulling at his clothes, makes no reply. Killian scowls and turns his back to strip down.

Sufficiently naked, the wind pushes him into a sea-scented bubble bath. "Ow! My HAIR! Heavens above, woman, have you never bathed a man in your life? OUCH!" Killian pouts and rubs his thin hair, only reminding himself of the hair that used to be thick, dark, and very, very sexy.

Just for a moment, he thinks of who he used to be.

Tall. Broad, but lean. Thick, luscious hair. Head AND chest. Thick, sarcastic eyebrows. Perfectly proportioned body. A smile. Happy. No awkward feet. No broken fingers. No brittle teeth. No anger. No hate.

He is no longer Killian Jones.

So who is he?

Killian can't recall the last time he thought that way. It had always been, "Mask the change with anger, mask the change with sarcasm, innuendos, walls. Because change? Change is the truest form of fear.

_YANK._

"WHAT, YOU INFERNAL WOMAN?!"

His wife's old handmaid starts to bow the bubbles away, an obvious signal for, "Hurry up."

He grabs a towel quickly and covers himself, and drags his body out of the bath.

...

"This is absolutely unacceptable. No. I may be a monster, but I still have my pride. And my pride still says NOO."

A pause.

"Yes. It really IS that bad."

Killian stares at his reflection in the mirror. His hair is _permed, _for Pete's sake! Piled upon his head like a giant hornet's nest. A terrible, terrible, giant hornet's nest.

Definitely NOT a lady magnet.

...

The finished product.

Is

in a word

disappointing.

His thin, light hair is brushed down, smoothed down to the point of silk. His hands are wrapped up in clean bandages, efficiently muffling the shaking. His leather over coat has been cast off, and replaced with a simple gray button down shirt, just drawing out his pale complexion.

The only remotely striking features he owns anymore are his eyes. Blue, different shades depending on his mood.

Right now they're an average blue, downcast in disappointment.

A gentle, almost maternal wind bushes across his cheek, then pushes the door open. Killian stares out that door, into the unknown.

_Should I? No. Well, here I go._

He stalks resolutely out the door, marching up to Swan's door. He knocks loudly.

"Swan?"

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

"Reading."

"Are you coming down for dinner?"

"Have I ever?"

"No, but, I thought that maybe-"

The door opens, and a tousled looking Swan appeared in front of him. "Look," she says. "I really appreciate the thought, but I think it would be best for both of us if we didn't do dinner."

Killian clears his throat. "Why not? I think it only courteous that-"

"Courteous?" Swan scoffs. "What would you know about courtesy?"

He stiffens. This had been a bad idea. A VERY bad idea. "More than you, apparently," he says dryly.

Her eyes narrow, and she opens her mouth to say something, but he turns away and quickly walks down the hall, leaving her words unspoken.

Perhaps change isn't the truest form of fear after all.

Perhaps it's rejection.

**A/N:**

**Hey guys! Busy night, babysitting my kid sister's birthday party.**

**12 year olds.**

**On a sugar high.**

**On the plus side, we all fangirled about CaptainSwan together.**

**#FangirlWithTheChildren **

**#IHaveNoLife**

**#Well**

**#I'llGetYouAStraw**

**#SoYouCanSuckItUp**

**Hugs and Kisses and Fears,**

**Mrs Killian Jones.**

**PS: You guys are the best :) I love you all individually, likes so much. You reviewers are fantastic and make my life! I feel like we're best friends (cuz I don't have any in real life haha). If you guys ever need ANYTHING, just PM me, or want something specific, you know. :) 3**


	10. Fade Away

**Disclaimer: I freaking WISH i owned OUAT. Sadly..no.**

David slams his case shut. He heads towards the door, purpose in every stride. Upon reaching the threshold, he glances around his barren house. Tattered sofa. Broken windows. Homemade furniture. Dirty. Lowly. He sighs. He had wanted, had wanted so bad for Emma to be raised well, in good circumstances. But Mary-Margaret had died, and he just...faded. Into the background, into the bars, into himself. David steels his jaws. Emma could have had a good life, a nice one, even, if he hadn't let misery tell him it wasn't worth it.

Standing there, looking at his almost barren house, he wishes he had never faded.

Turning to the door once more, a frame catches his eye. Well, not the frame, mind you, but the picture inside. Mary-Margaret, him, Emma. The Nolan family. Together. The picture, ironically, had a seal, causing it to never fade.

He rips the page out of its frame, and stuffs the picture in his pocket, next to his heart.

He opens the door and begins to walk.

He will find Emma.

He'll take her home.

He will give her what she deserves.

He'll save her.

He'll give their family a second chance.

And this time?

He won't fade away.

**A/N: I'm sorry about the delay! My house has been under construction, and I'VE been under the weather. For, like, a week.**

**They weren't kidding when they said there's no cure for the common cold.**

**Gosh I have so much make up work I bet. **

**Ewwwww...**

**Well, anyway THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT YOU ARE FANTABULOUS MUNCHKINS AND SOMETIMES I WISH MY LAP TOP HAD A CAPS LOCK BUTTON, YA KNOW?**

**Anyhoo, Since I feel like a traitor for neglecting you all, I'll be posting more than one chapter today. I don't know how many, just until I run out of steam.**

**Or pass out.**

**Whichever happens first, I guess.**

**Hugs and Kisses, Please don't fade away,**

**~Mrs Killian Jones: pureblood**


	11. Falling

**Disclaimer: If I owned this show, there would be no hiatus.**

_I never said that I want this._

_~Imagine Dragons, Monster_

Emma's stomach growls. Them Emma growls, frustrated. No longer wishing to jump from a window, she just wants to eat. When the Voice had saved her that night, she had thought that maybe, just _maybe_, there was human in him.

Then he had given her a library.

She smirks.

She's still overly proud of her improvised last name. Swan. The little decorations on her wall paper.

And he doesn't suspect a thing.

But then he had gotten overly offended because she didn't want to eat with him. He was her captor, not her date, for heaven's sake!

Regardless, she still felt a twinge of pity. He had come to her for company, and he had done nothing to hurt her...

Yet.

And that's what stopped her from going.

Emma usually loves the unknown. She loves the thrill, the rush of making the unknown known. She loves keeping the unknown her secret, the one thing that's really, truly hers.

But now?

Now Emma can't help but be a little bit afraid.

Emma had grown up knowing all about herself. Who she was (Emma Nolan) where she was (Enchanted Forrest) where she was going (Anywhere that wasn't there) and what she needed to do (Get out, breathe, feel, _live). _Surprisingly, getting kidnapped kind of tweaks your plans a bit.

She still knew all of that (a convict, prison, anywhere but here, _eat)_, but she didn't know how to solve the problem. She's dying from captivity, and the solution is unknown.

And THAT'S when the unknown begins to be scary.

Her stomach growls again.

"_Ugghhhhhh," _she sighs. Pushing off her bed, she drags herself to the door, peering through the key hole.

Nothing.

Cautiously, she turns the knob, an exhilarating feeling pulsing through her, despite the circumstance. Closing her eyes, she pulls the door open and rushes out. A cool breeze (inside?) greets her gently, excitedly, mirroring Emma's mood.

She smiles brightly, really smiles, for the first time since, well, since Mary-Margaret died.

It's scary.

It's perfect.

It's exciting.

She's-hungry.

She walks quickly down the hallway, stopping at a grand staircase. Her smile widens. Mary-Margaret had taught her, long ago, how to properly ride down a banister. Quickly undoing her buttons, she throws off her jacket, discarding it carelessly on the floor somewhere. Kicking off her new shoes, leaving her in her new socks, she hitches her dress up in a very unladylike fashion. She hops onto the banister, and grips it tightly, closing her eyes, preparing herself. Then she lets out a yell and slides down the never ending rail, acting far less mature than usual, but caring not at all.

Finally, face flushed, she nears the end of the trip and gets ready.

Just inches before the end, she pushes off, flying through the air, all tribulations forgotten in a moment of glee.

A pair of longing blue eyes, watching from a distance, become panicked. About to press forward, they see the Swan-lass is not falling.

She's flying.

And watching her face, flushed, bright, merry, happy, _beautiful, _he can't help but think...

That just maybe...

_He's_ the one falling.

**A/N:**

**Question: HOW DOES ONE PERSON HAVE SO MUCH SNOT!?**

**Seriously!**

**And, it looks like passing out is first, so I'll update again when I wake up.**

**Enjoy!**

**Review!**

**Hugs and Kisses and _Please_****try not to fall,**

**~Mrs Killian Jones: Pureblood**


	12. Of Monsters and Men

**Disclaimer: If this show was mine, Neal would be the main character that dies.. ._. #SorryNotSorry**

**Early A/N: the end of this chapter isn't like the movie, just because it seemed to fit that way. Once again... #SorryNotSorry.**

_If I seem dangerous,_

_Would you be scared?_

_~Imagine Dragons:Monster_

It's entirely possible that Emma is acting like a three year old.

Not saying it's fact,

but it's possible.

When she finally recovers enough to stop laughing on the floor and get up, she heads towards the kitchen.

Locked.

Crap. Now she'll have to eat with the Voice.

She sighs and saunters off down the hall. Every once in a while, she'll peek into rooms, amazed at the dust and loneliness that occupies them. Was that really what the Voice had fallen to?

Shaking her head, she wanders, continues to wander

wanders some more...

more...

and perhaps just a little more...

until she's completely lost.

Glancing around the corridor she has found herself in, she finds what she's looking for: a window. Quickly running over to it, she discovers it's nailed down.

This guy has some issues.

Using all of her strength, she yanks at the curtain, pulling until her fingers are raw, and just as she admits defeat, it gives way and she stumbles back.

No light outside.

Crap.

She's been out longer than she had anticipated.

Frantically looking about the room, she realizes she has no idea where she is.

_Crap. Crap. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrap. _

"ARRRRGGGHHH," Emma yells out in frustration, kicking the nearest door open.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! My foot, ow!"

Scowling and trying to massage her foot, she glances at the door she's just broken. A sign, in messy handwriting, reads, "DO NOT ENTER".

Emma smirks.

And enters.

Then gasps.

The room is dark, ripped to shreds, broken and terrible, like someone took all the darkness they harbored and splattered it all across the room. Walking deeper into the room, she puts her hand out to brush items that catch her eye. She comes up to a shredded portrait, lying on a table next to...is that a floating flower? No. Flowers don't float. Then why the crap is it floating?! Rubbing her eyes, she brings a gentle finger to pet the rose. It shudders, coughs, and returns to it's floating state. She almost pulls it to her, but stops last second, not really knowing why. Instead she turns to the portrait.

Reaching for the torn shreds, she puts them in place and studies the picture.

It's a man.

A very _attractive _man.

His face wears a smile, looks like it never comes off. His hair is thick and rich, a luxurious black, or perhaps dark, dark brown. He's dressed well ("A _royal," _she scoffs). He wears a lot of rings, not really Emma's style, but he made it work, and _omigosh. _Is that...guyliner?

Who knew men could apply makeup better than Emma, a woman.

He sports thick, majestic brows, one of them quirked just a little above the other, as if constantly amused.

His body- a gift to women everywhere, bless him- was lean and fit, and insanely, _insanely _sexy.

For a brief moment, Emma wonders if it's natural to fall in love with an image.

Finally drawing her eyes up to his,er, the painting's, she feels her breath catch. Her heart stop. Her mind slow. Her eyes widen. Her mouth drop. She feels all of it, all those symptoms pointing to either shock, or explosive diarrhea.

It's shock.

The eyes are blue, a blue she's seen on no one but the Voice, except they're full of joy. But...

They're blue.

Like his.

Only his.

What the...

"Well," a voice, _the _Voice growls. "It would appear as though our Swan-lass can't read." He holds up the "DO NOT ENTER" sign in trembling hands.

Emma gulps. "I-"

"No."

"I'm sorry what?"

"No!" he roars. "Do NOT try to get out of this! I let you into my home, I have been nothing but charitable towards you, _despite _what you think of me. I gave you a library, but apparently, you can't. READ!" He throws the paper to the ground near her feet and walks up to her, dangerously close to her face.

"_Leave,"_ he growls. "_Now."_

Emma trembles, terrified to be there, but even more terrified to back down. "You- you- you-"

"I-I-I what, love?" he sneers, sending unpleasant chills down her spine.

She grabs the portrait and flings it front of her, holding it in shaking hands. His face contorts with too many emotions, washes of emotion all together, and remains still.

"Who is this?" she whispers.

"Someone I used to know," he says dryly.

"What happened to him?"

"He died. He was destroyed. He lost everything, including himself. He's gone."

Emma choked on her throat.

"Do you know why?" he asks, painfully calm.

Emma shakes her head, but she does. She does know why.

"Because I killed him," he snarls. "And if you don't get out of here, I'll do the same to you."

Emma nods, clutching the portrait to her chest, and walks to the door, feeling the Voice's eyes on her the entire way. At the last moment, she turns around.

"I have one last question for you, Voice."

She takes his silence as cue to move on.

"When I first...arirved here, I thought you were a monster, in the form of a man. Then I thought you were a man in the form of a monster. But I've learned that you may only be one or the other. So my question for you is...are you monster?"She draws a shaky breath. "Or man?"

With that question hanging between them like a corpse, she spins on her heel, walking away.

Monster or man, he was dangerous.

And she was scared.

...

Back in the study, Killian lets out a breath he was holding against his conscious.

Staring at the spot she had stood minutes, maybe hours before, he whispers, "I don't know. I just don't know anymore."

**A/N:**

**Wow guys! Thanks for the positive support! Ya'all are the best!**

**Liv and Pixie and Schnitzel?...Stay perfect. Your reviews make my day. (Also, thanks Schnitzel, you get better too!) :)**

**Anyway, what's the thoughts on A&E revealing a death of a main character. Please hide my baby. I've heard some really good theories, and would love to hear yours! **

**So**

**Hugs and Kisses and Monsters and Men ;)**

**~Mrs Killian Jones: Pureblood**


	13. Just Killian

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize doesn't belong to me.**

_I'm only a man with a candle to guide me;_

_I'm taking a stand to escape what's inside me._

_~Imagine Dragons: Monster_

Killian paces. He paces like a madman, never stopping, burning patterns into his dark, wooden floor, like tracing patterns in his dark, broken heart.

He paces for hours, until finally, _finally_ he sits. He thinks. He puts his head in his shaking hands and sits and thinks.

Then he gets up again, and walks up to an object covered with a sheet. Breathing deeply, he throws the sheet off, and stares at the dusty mirror he's just unveiled.

Then?

He growls. Pulls up his thin lips and snarls. Lashes his hand out and strikes the object nearest to him, throws his head back and howls. He shrieks, he yells, he shouts, he does all but whisper.

Then, abruptly, he stops.

Cocks his head to the side.

Stares at his dusty reflection.

Breathes deeply. Closes his eyes. Pulls up the corners of his thin lips, and tries to smile. He opens his eyes and looks at himself. It's been so long, he doesn't remember if he's doing it right. It looks right? Maybe?

He sighs. A deep, feelful sigh.

_"Are you monster? Or man?"_

_Monster?_

_Man?_

_Monster?_

_I don't want to be a man._

_I don't want to be a monster. _

_I want to be..._

_Killian. Killian Jones. _

_Just Killian._

For the first time since Killian can remember, his dark hear moves. It doesn't squelch, or hammer, dance, glow, or anything silly like that.

No, quite simply, his heart started to beat.

...

A beating wakes Emma up.

She sits up quickly, shaking off dreams of monsters and men. She stares at the door, where the beating is coming from. It almost sounds like a heartbeat, the thudding door.

"Who is it?" She knows who it is.

"It's...me, love."

Out of habit, Emma shouts back, "Don't call me love!"

"Yes, alright, but would you be so kind as to open the door?"

She hesitates. "Right now?"

She could almost swear to hearing his eyes roll. "No, lo- dear. Yesterday. Yes of course right now!"

"Is it really, truly important, because-"

"I'm sorry."

...

Killian waits on the other side of the door, his heart beating at an average pace, speeding right along for him.

Swan doesn't answer.

He closes his eyes, his heart starting to dim out, and rests his forehead against the door.

It was a hopeless case anyway.

Just like him.

Then, "What?"

His head snaps up, his heart starting to throb.

...

Had he apologized? Is that what's going on?

"What?" The word is out of her mouth before she's given it permission.

She's greeted with a brief silence.

Then, "I'm sorry."

Her heart hammers. She doesn't know why, apologies are usually insignificant, fake, trivial, but she can tell, she just knows that he means it.

"For what?" she asks loudly, trying to drown out her throbbing head and hammering heart.

"For...er, well, you know..." His voice drops to a mumble. "Kidnapping you." He clears his throat, not able to see the slight smile that crosses Emma's face. "And such, you know."

She hops out of bed and heads to the door before she knows what she's doing.

...

"Kidnapping you. And such." He says it with confidence, hoping to impress her with his repentance.

She's quiet, and he's content to just bask in the clean air, and lays his head against the door again, a slight tug pulling at the corners of his lips again. Suddenly the door is thrown open and he is thrown face to lovely face with the Swan lass.

He swears both of their breath's stop.

Everything stops, in fact.

His heart. His breath. His head. Time. The curse. His pain. His sorrow. His memories of the past.

Everything stops but the _now. _

_Now_ is all he can feel, all he wants to feel.

All he needs is this, the Swan-lass to be near him, just their breath mingling, a lovely blush tinting her neck.

All he needs is now.

...

Emma throws the door open, not expecting what greets her.

You can't really blame her, though! She had no way to expect the Voice to _right. At. Her door!_

Like,_right _there. As in, he stumbled a little closer to her when she pulled to door open.

Strangely, though, she doesn't feel uncomfortable. Far from it, in fact. She's almost comfortable with him staring into her eyes, no words being exchanged, just feelings.

It feels like time has stopped, like all the world is on bated breath, waiting for something to happen right now.

Emma says the first thing that comes to her mind.

...

"My name is Emma."

He stares at her. Into her light emerald, gold flecked eyes.

Finally, he coughs. "What?"

"My name. It's Emma, " she says...nervously? No, he daren't think like that. "What," she coughs. "What's your name. I've just taken to calling you...The Voice...in my head, when I think of you."Her face becomes a very sudden and bright pink. "Not that I spend long hours thinking of you, no, just I-"

Killian laughs softly, breaking the spell.

"It's Killian, love."

He smiles when she makes no objection to his pet name.

"Just Killian."

**A/N:**

**Thanks for being so patient guys! It means a lot! Just, real life is catching up, you know.**

**Stupid real life. The hiatus should just be over so I may return to my REAL real life.**

**Anyway, SHORT STORY KINDA TIME! (not really, just a snippet of information)**

**Well, a moment ago, my sister says, "What do you want for your birthday?" (ITS ALMOST MY BDAY! YAY!)**

**And I'm all, "A life size cardboard cutout of Killian would be nice. REAAALLLY nice."**

**And she just rolled her eyes and walked away, but then I started to *ahem* look around the internet for some life size cardboard cut outs of Killian *ahem* and I.**

**FOUND**

**SOME**

**!**

**Now I just don't know what to do with my life. To buy or not to buy?**

**On a lighter note, we're watching Romeo and Juliet (a story I've never quite got around to liking) and the acting is so terrible, when they're kissing, it looks like they're just trying to eat eachother. And, unfortunately, the casting is age-accurate. So she's 13. *shudder***

**They could take some lessons from Killian and Emma.**

**To my faithful reviewers: THANK YOU I LOVE YOU ALL.**

**To those who don't review: Come now, join the fun, let me know what you think, dear munchkins! :)**

**Hugs and Kisses and Just Killian, if you please,**

**~Mrs Killian Jones:mPureblood**


	14. A Bad Thing

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize doesn't belong to me.**

_There might be something there that wasn't there before._

_~Not Imagine Dragons: Monster_

Emma's mouth drops open. She quickly closes it, only for it to drop again.

"What the-?" She trails off, unsure of what word could exactly describe her mood. She decides to leave the gap just as it is, and shakes her head disapprovingly at the gown on her bed.

It's quite beautiful, a white dress, tight bodice with a bead outline, and a full skirt, appearing to be made from Swan feathers. It's really very gorgeous, and Emma had taken an instant liking to it, really she had, but there's a small problem nagging at the back of her head.

_It's too beautiful for you._

And it's quite true.

Due to Emma's lapse of emotion and feeling when she first arrived, she had gotten horribly skinny, developed bags under her eyes, her hair had lost its luster. She was, in a word, disappointing. The swan dress is beautiful, perfect. Emma? Well, Emma is broken. And the broken do not fit the clothes of the beautiful.

She sighs, and searches for some new clothes, uncomfortable in only her under garments.

The Winds had come in earlier (Emma has grown accustomed to the human-like qualities of the enchanted Winds), and tugged restlessly at her clothes, wasting no time in sweeping them from the room when Emma had reluctantly stripped of her clothing. Off to burn the dress, no doubt.

Turning, she had found the beautiful white gown lain carefully across her sheets.

But there was no way in all of Hades that she was going to wear that.

Finding no alternatives, Emma begins to fret. What could she do but wear the dress? Perhaps it's for the best, anyway. After all, it is quite beautiful...

...

Killian (he still smiles, remembering his name rolling out of Emma Swan's mouth) glares at his reflection in the dusty mirror. It would appear as though nothing in all the realms can cover his defections, and being in the presence of a lass as beautiful as Swan does NOT help in hiding the ugly remains of a man. Of Killian.

Sighing, he straightens the collar of his white shirt, and smoothes over his dark blue sweater.

Emma Swan had agreed to dine with him, and he wants it to be perfect.

But how can it be perfect when Just Killian is as far from perfect as Emma is from loving him?

Biting at his lower lip and furrowing his light eyebrows in worry, he glances over at the floating rose.

Just in time to see a petal fall.

...

Killian stops breathing. He really does. And one can hardly blame him, he thinks, as he watches Emma Swan walk down to the table he sits at, dressed as an angel and smirking like a devil.

Bloody woman.

...

Emma tries not to smirk. She really does. But one can hardly blame her, she thinks, as she watches Killian stand to greet her as she approaches, dressed as a man and growling like a monster as his sweater catches on the table.

Silly girl,

she thinks.

There was never a monster, and perhaps once there was a man, but now there's just Killian.

...

Emma notices his silent struggle, and averts her eyes, wishing to avoid hurting his pride further than is needing. But out of the corner of her eyes, she studies him as he tries to hold his hand steady enough to eat without spilling all over the place.

Getting up silently, she ignores him as his head snaps up and he sadly watches her walk away.

...

Killian mentally slaps himself and stares at his soup. Stupid, bloody soup. He decides right then that he hates soup. Detests it really.

Suddenly, the door opens, only moments after it closed, and Emma Swan walks back in with a pair of straws.

Silently handing one to him, she takes her seat.

Staring at him solemnly, she says, "Watch this," then proceeds to blow bubbles in her soup in a very unladylike manner.

When he continues to only stare, she sucks some up the straw, then compresses it with her teeth. Smiling through the straw, she blows as hard as she can, hitting Killian directly in the face with room temperature soup.

Mouth gaping open, he watches as she grins, wiping her hands on her Swan gown. Then she turns away for a moment throw her hair over her shoulder.

And he attacks.

Spitting with the force of an alpaca, her dress becomes a mess of feathers and soup.

...

Later, they danced. They talked. They were compatible. Almost like friends. They wound up in Emma's library, with him reading to her quietly, as she fought to stay awake. Eventually, her head drooped onto his shoulder and her eyes fluttered shut. He smiled at her softly, then put the book down and carefully carried her to her room, then retired into his own.

For the first time in over three hundred years, no nightmares plagued the night, no demons plundered their minds.

For the first time, something had changed.

To any outsider, it would appear as an insignificant, polite change, made only from the politeness of people.

But to a staff that had served a man, come to know a monster, and watched as petals streamed like the tears of their master, they saw something.

Something beautiful, powerful, and pure.

They saw something there that wasn't there before.

And perhaps, change needn't always be a bad thing.

**A/N:**

**Sorry the ultimately boring chapter, but, well, my brain is fried from make up work.**

**If someone would like to outlaw school, I would not, repeat, NOT be offended.**

**Anyway, thanks for all the support! I love you guys so much! You constant reviewers make my iife, and you new reviewers are the sweetest! :) **

**Anyway, I was thinking I might also do a short 2, maybe 3 shot based off of the song "Nothing" by The Script. (CaptainSwan, of course.) Good idea or no? **

**Leave a review and some love!**

**Stay perfect!**

**Eat Fiber Bars because they're yummy!**

**Hugs and Kisses and Fiber Bars,**

**~Mrs Killian Jones: Pureblood Who Almost Just Signed Her Real Name Like A Ditz**

**PS: For those of you that asked (and those that didn't , but wanted to), this is where you can buy a Killian-Cutout (among other places)**

** category/118/once-upon-a-time-abc **


	15. Father

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize doesn't belong to me.**

_When I'm thirsty and don't have any water,_

_I swallow my spit._

_~My sister._

Emma wakes up, her eyes opening to someone stroking her hair. She grumbles, and murmurs, "Stop it, David." She only calls him David when she's upset.

The stroking stops abruptly, the hand no longer light and roaming, but heavy on her neck. Suddenly, it withdraws quickly, as though she was a stove. She grumbles. "What is your problem, David?" She rolls over and stares into a pair of startled, bright blue eyes. Not David's.

"AHHHH!"

She rolls over twice in the other direction and tumbles onto the floor. Killian sits stiffly, staring down at her from the couch in the library.

"What the heck, Killian?! You scared the crap out of me!Why aren't we in bed?" Her eyes widen and her mouth drops in a little 'o'. His eyes' however, are stiff and distant. "I didn't mean...I meant...respectively...not _together, _of course, just...not...together," she finishes lamely, a little intimidated by his unhappy and unfriendly gaze.

"Are you...are you ok, Killian?"

"Spiffy."

"Ah."

Silence from the opposing side.

"Why, er, why we sleeping on a couch?" _TOGETHER?!_

Her last thought seems to have traveled loud and clear to him, as he remains stiff and says, "You fell asleep." He sneers. "You were far too heavy for carrying."

Her eyes narrow into slits.

"O...kaaaayyy, _Voice__," _she spits. "Fat jokes aside, maybe you'll tell me why in the seven seas you were stroking my head like I was some puppy dog?"

"Just that reason, _Swan__, _" he says with equal disdain, as though SHE had been the one to insult HIM! "Your smell threw me off, and I mistook you for a puppy dog."

Her mouth drops. Just drops. She feels totally and completely betrayed, which scares her. To be betrayed, there must first be trust, and there was no way that Emma Nolan Swan wanted to be trusting people.

Wiping her face of emotion, she stands up and dusts off her filthy Swan Dress.

"Quite sorry, sir. I must have mistook you for someone I knew."

With a smirk and satisfying crack of spinning dress, she struts out of the room confidently, feeling anything but.

...

Killian hates himself at the moment. Last night had been nothing short of magical, and now it was ruined.

All because of her.

Or,

more correctly,

(and here he grits his teeth)

all because of this _David _character.

(What kind of name is that anyway? David. Sounds like a horrid disease.)

He honestly hadn't meant to start stroking her hair. He had woken up completely embarrassed that he had fallen asleep without taking her to her room, and had looked over at her to wake her up, but got...distracted. Her hair was so long, curled, blonde, and _shiny _for Merlin's sake!

And who's to say that monsters don't like shiny things?

It had started out as a mere poke, to see if it was as soft as it looked, which turned into a pinch, which turned into a single stroke, before he realized he wasn't going to stop. So he had sat, for almost ten minutes, stroking her blonde tresses, and thinking of how nice it would be for this become a normal encounter.

Then she had called him_ David. _

_WHAT THE BLOODY BUGGERING FREAKING HECK?!_

Who was this, this, _David _who had any right to stroke his Swan's hair in the wee hours of morning? Who was this _David _that was the first name uttered off her lips in the morning? Who was this _David? _Killian has no idea, but he plans on killing him.

And then, to top it off, he had to act bloody, buggering, pathetically jealous! He had _insulted _his Swan! Then she had walked out on him, and rightly so. Killian had no right to be a terrible person because of a name (and a stupid name at that).

But he had, and he no feels utterly betrayed.

But betrayal is impossible.

Betrayal needs trust to thrive.

And for a minute he thinks about that, and comes to a groundbreaking conclusion.

He doesn't _trust _Emma.

_He loves her._

_..._

Emma walks into the dining room in the rattiest clothes she can get a hold of, finding no need to dress up, as he probably isn't even there. (But that doesn't matter.)

But...

he watches her walk in.

She visibly stiffens and stares at him, into his apologetic eyes.

"I'm sorry."

Is this a dream?

"What?" she asks wittily.

"I'm sorry."

She glares at him.

"For what?"

He coughs.

"For, well, saying you...smelled like a puppy dog." The last part is said quietly and quickly behind closed eyes. His eyes open again, and he looks at the ground by her feet.

"And..." he breathes heavily. "Stroking your hair." He keeps his eyes down as he shrugs. "That was...weird."

Emma opens her mouth, but he holds up an interjecting hand.

"Wait."

He breathes deeply again.

"I'm also sorry for not carrying you to your room. And spitting soup all over your dress. And keeping you in a room. And kidnapping you." He trails off awkwardly.

She's silent.

Shuffling forward, he takes a hand from behind his back and passes her rose, with a faint glow about it. When she doesn't reach for it, he drops it between them and steps back, and she's about to leave when her mouth drops just a tad. The rose, instead of falling, floats in front of her, an equal distance betwixt the two.

The rose from the room.

The one he almost banished her over.

Floating between them like an offering.

A petal falls, and Killian's eyes darken, and he looks like he's visibly growing older.

"What?..." she coughs and clears her throat to stop the tremble. "What is this?"

"It used to be my lifeline."

"What's your lifeline now?"

He's silent.

"What's going on?"

"I'm dying."

"Really?" she squeaks.

He nods.

"You'll be dead?"

"In a sense."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She can feel hysteria rising, even though she shouldn't care.

"My body will be living, but my soul will be dead." He says it in a monotone.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you need to know. I don't want you to hate me when I'm..gone." His voice cracks.

"I don't hate you," she whispers.

He nods, still staring at her feet.

"Will you look at me and not my feet, please?" she snaps.

He abruptly looks into her eyes, and she get the feeling he's seeing her soul rather than her eyes.

"Why would I hate you?"

"Because I called you fat."

She snorts. "I'm quite sure I know I'm not fat; my ribs show through my clothes."

He looks pained.

"It's not your fault!" she says quickly. "Just my stupidity."

"As you wish."

She can see the hints of a smile on his face, and smiles back encouragingly, producing a genuine smile from him, sending triumph coursing through her veins.

Maybe things could work out.

His eyes follow her hands as she grabs the rose and clutches it tightly.

No words are exchanged, but they know what it means.

"I'm sorry."

"I forgive you."

...

Killian laughs at a terrible joke Emma tells him. Glancing at a clock, he starts.

"Midnight," he murmurs.

"What?" Emma asks, wiping tears away from her laughter.

He gives her a brief smile. "Bedtime," he says.

She shrugs and stands up, and helps pull him to his feet, bringing them comfortably close. She smiles at him.

He smiles back, feeling like he could fly at any given moment.

"I have a question," he says abruptly, startling himself.

"Yes?" Emma asks, and he can feel her breath and it's making him forget his caution.

"Who's David?"

She stares at him, obviously surprised.

Crap.

ABORT ABORT ABORT

"How do you know that name?" She says slowly.

"You...called me David. This morning." He tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but doesn't do to well.

She, however, doesn't seem to notice it, and shrugs.

"My dad."

Her...

Wait.

What?

He, the Prince Killian Jones

had been jealous

of Emma's _FATHER?!_

He looks at her retreating back as she waves and calls out a last goodnight.

He collapses onto the couch.

Her _Father?!_

**A/N:**

**I'm sorry.**

**I love you guys.**

**Don't hate me.**

**That would suck.**

**I've been on temporary hiatus due to sickness and my birthday, so I have an excuse. **

**Also, **

**writers' block.**

**Constipation for writers.**

**Also, I'm working on a series I want published in the real world.**

**And I have homework.**

**WHICH I AM CURRENTLY NEGLECTING FOR YOU SWEET MUNCHKINS! :DD**

**Ya?**

**Well, my pitiful life aside, I truly am sorry! :(**

**Stay perfect**

**don't hate me**

**i love you**

**Hugs and Kisses and Apologies,**

**~Mrs Killian Jones: Pureblood**

**Ps I Love You**


	16. Monster

**Disclaimer: We still doing this?**

_Can I clear my conscious,_

_If I'm different from the rest?_

_~Imagine Dragons: Monster_

Baelfire kicks the near lifeless man on the ground. "Don't you ever SHUT UP?!" he roars. He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the pain of a killer hangover.

David moans from the ground.

Baelfire glares at him. "I sincerely hope that's a yes."

David looks up, his split lips, bloody nose, and black eye making him him look like a monster in the watery moonlight. "What is your problem, Bae?! What _happened _you?!"

Baelfire snorts.

David sighs, licking his bloody lips. "You used to be so...so..._good. _And now..." he trails off.

Suddenly, Baelfire grabs David by the hair, pulling until they're eye to eye. "_I grew up."__  
_

David eyes him wearily.

"No." He says.

"I don't think you have."

...

Countless hours later, David stumbles into a basement, listening to Baelfire lock the door and whistle jovially.

He has to get out here.

He has to save her from that monster.

Both of them.

Baelfire.

The man with Emma.

Monsters.

For just a moment, David recalls how eager he had been to sell Emma into marriage with Baelfire. Did that make him a monster?

David throws his head into his hands.

Baelfire.

The Man.

Himself.

All monsters.

Maybe everyone's a monster.

Even those who claim to slay them.

...

Hours later, a half-formed plan of escape, made in a dizzy mind, is put into action, and David climbs out of a tinny window he had to break.

He had to get to Emma.

He had to save her.

In his almost delirious mind, the only coherent thought he could form was

_Monster._

_Monster._

_Monster._

_Who is the monster?_

**A/N:**

**Ehhhhhh...**

**Not great.**

**Ehhh...**

**I am ashamed.**

**it was late**

**terrible**

**and ehhhhh...**

**ANYHOO!**

**I CANT SEE NY SERENADE UNTIL THURSDAY GUYS! DDDDDDD:**

**AHHHHHHHHHHHH!**

**Hey has anyone seen Prince of Egypt?**

**I LOVE THAT MOVIEE!**

**Thoughts? Concerns? Love letters? Hate mail?**

**Review.**

**SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY**

**~Mrs Killian Jones: Pureblood**


	17. Leave

**Disclaimer: *mutters* I WISH I owned this show...**

**This is for gusenitsa because I promised her a chapter in her honour. :) Love you girl, welcome aboard!**

_I'm taking a stand   
_

_~Imagine Dragons: Moster_

"Killian?"

"Mmmm?" Killian strokes her hair as she tries (and fails) to draw one of the swans on the pond. They had decided that the weather was perfect for a picnic, and now it's three hours after the last bite of food, and they're still sitting outside. Together. Killian honestly can't think of anything that could ruin this momen-

"I miss my father."

His heart stops.

Her voice is wrecked, and his heart is no longer functioning.

He clears his throat. "Oh," he says hoarsely. "I..I'm...sorry." What does he do in a situation like this? A breeze picks up she starts to shiver. He drapes his long coat around her shoulders. "What," he clears his throat again,"What would you have me do?"

She sighs. "Nothing, I suppose."

After a few silent moments, she drops his coat and walks away.

...

Emma dries her red-rimmed eyes. She hadn't meant to do that. Tell him that. Sound so ungrateful. Killian has treated her better than anyone, and she knows she should be nothing but thankful, but her father...

For a moment, she allows herself to imagine him, all alone, without her. She stops thinking about it. It hurts too much.

A knock sounds at her door.

"Come in."

Killian walks in, and his eyes look suspiciously red-rimmed as well. Why? He clears his throat.

"Emma," he says, then stops, and just looks at her.

She waits patiently for a moment before saying, "Yes, Killian?"

He shakes his head, as though trying to erase all memories of his most recent thoughts from his head, and says, "I have something to show you." From behind his back, he produces a beautiful little mirror, one she dimly recognizes from the room her rose came from.

"It's lovely," she says politely, albeit confusedly.

"What?" He glances at the mirror in confusion, before snapping his gaze back hers. "No," he says hurriedly. "No, this isn't a looking mirror, it's a...magic...mirror," he says feebly.

"What?" She's actually very interested, and moves beside him to peer over his shoulder, ignoring the funny feeling in her stomach when he breathes her in sharply. "What does it do?"

"Well," his voice trembles ever so little, and she shivers. "Well," he says again. "It shows you what you ask it to." Breathing deeply, he says, "Who would you like to see?"

After a pause, he whispers, "Your father?"

Swallowing hard, she nods, and he hands her the mirror. She looks directly into it, and sees no reflection. "Tell it who you want to see," Killian prompts.

"Show me...my father."

A man, lying in an almost lifeless heap on the cold, hard ground appears. He twitches, and his face shows just a bit.

Emma screams, a falls to the floor, sobbing.

"_No, Father, Please, No, Father."__  
_

_..._

Killian paces like a madman.

Emma's made him a madman.

She's taken his broken, black heart and fixed it, only to tear at it unwittingly, before patching it again to rinse and repeat.

That darned woman has caused him to fall in love.

And love is nothing, if not completely, unadulteratedly, and heart-wrenchingly maddening.

He runs a hand through his hair before making his decision and walking out the door.

...

Emma opens the door to a completely _wrecked _looking Killian.

"Killian, I-"

"Your father's debt has been repaid. I have no need of you now. Leave."

.

**A/N:**

**BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! IT IS SO FUN TO TOY WITH YOUR FEEBLE LITTLE MINDS! HAHAHAHAHAHA!**

**Anyhoo, I have decided that the best way to go about this is to do shorter, more frequent chapters, otherwise I might as well be dead. (Honestly, I'll only be reading OTHER PEOPLE'S fanfics, but whatevs...)**

**I hope you all like it! :)**

**SHORT STORY! YAAAAAYYY! :D**

**Well, today, my school got out at 12:20, and I was so excited, I even left my phone at home because I figured I would have no need of it for such a short period of time.**

**Well, hour long story short, my mother dearest forgot about me and I waited at school for an hour. (Yeah, I'm young and can't drive yet. Deal.)**

**It wouldn't have been too bad if my friends weren't total backstabbing PRATS! *heavy breathing***

**So I just read Much Ado About Nothing for an hour.**

**I want a dog.**

**Hugs, Kisses, and Dogs,**

**~Mrs Killian Jones: Pureblood**


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